The Game - Better Days lyrics

[Hook: Andre Merrit] Been holding this pain inside for so long Though the rain never goes away They say I should leave these streets behind me But it's so hard to escape Oh Lord please send me an angel To lead me out of this place Take me away, away Far away, to better days [Verse 1: The Game] First thing I wanna do is say "What up" to T.I King of the south, now everybody see why I'm just driving and thinking how I survived here And I ain't seen Dre and Eminem in five years That sound Shady right, I live a crazy life So many black thoughts I had to paint the Mercedes white I could tell you 'bout the rims, but I ain't here for that Going out like Big and Pac, I fear for that Take this Lambo, and put six holes in it Shut up the gla** and leave my body exposed in it Lift the doors up and let all of my demons out And I can see my brother now cause that's what I've been dreamin 'bout I ain't thinkin 'bout b**hes or pulling Beamers out I'm thinkin 'bout my sons' safety everytime they leave the house I know how to make it out the hood, I seen the route And here's the proof, me, Venus and Serena out [Hook] [Verse 2: The Game] I'm sittin on these stairs at this church, 'bout to start a verse And somewhere in the world, somebody 'bout to start a hearse Tell me who inside it, Who's son is that And how he get there, now tell me who gun was that I ain't saying confess, definitely ain't saying snitch But if you k**ed the n***a, help his mama dig his ditch I'm from a hood where n***as gotta keep they gun co*ked And kids wear Dre Beats to stop the sound of gun shots But at least they got the Dre Beats Cause kids in Africa ain't even got shoes on they feet And I seen it with my own eyes At the same time I'm picking flies off my own eyes Can you feel that, If you can hear 'em buzzin You can feel the pain of Mike Tyson and his baby mother They lost they baby daughter, and she was only three She never got a chance to blossom on the family tree [Hook] Verse 3: The Game] We got a new president and I love that he black But I'mma ask him like Bush "Where the soldiers at?" Now move the camera to New Orleans "Where the soldiers at?" The water dried up, well n***a do the Nolia clap We all juveniles, we all been through some trials And some tribulations, I'm in this booth pacin' What do I say next, should I talk about some cars? Or the next chapter of my life and show you all my scars All my bullet wounds and my stab wounds I can't show you, I covered 'em up with tattoos I can't do nothing but spit the truth On probation, smoke and drink Patron before I hit the booth You makin' songs for the club, when n***as drinking I make 'em for the ride home, when n***as thinking One minute you here, next minute sh** is tragic And this a Jim Jonsin track, now feel the static [Hook]